In all of the most-honest honesty, I already wrote this blog post once. I wrote it on my handheld device, accidentally hit the “back” key twice, erased it all, looked up and exhaled through my neck tension, and decided to go to bed.
That was two nights ago.
So: HERE WE ARE AGAIN.
Fun (??) fact: I ran a half-marathon this past weekend.
That might be big news, it might not be. You may be a runner, you may not be.
To try to appropriately address my audience, here, I’ll take it from a few angles.
For all of you runners: my time was 2 hours and 32 minutes. And I get that that’s not the best half-marathon time by any, any long shot. But, hey, I did my best and I (mostly) ran the entire ways, even on the hills where everyone else gave up. I did not give up. I kept trucking along, and for the next two days my legs were like, “What? Why?” but, I did it. Ta da.
For all you non-runners: I ran thirteen-point-one miles this weekend, at a set time, and I paid to do it (You better believe I drank my fair share of the Gatorade and chocolate milk and water and stuff). My time was averaged at eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds per mile. To give you an idea of what that feels like, I think that most guys who train and stuff can run a mile in about eight to ten minutes. So, yeah, I wasn’t the fastest of the fast.
But, again, there are wayyyy more hills in Tennessee than in Detroit, I’d never run that far in my life, I ran the whole way, and I even had a good attitude about the whole thing.
OH MY GOSH, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW SOMETHING ELSE?
So, I’ve thought about my exercise style before. Here’s the honest truth: I just like to pose. Like, give me one of those workouts where the commander-guy/ girl is like, “&#@%!! Work HARDER you piece of #$&@!” I’m like, “I don’t need this negativity in my life,” BUT, if you tell me I can pose and look pretty…I will work so hard. So hard. Planks for days. Bruises everywhere.
Back to Saturday morning. There were these professional (maybe) photographers lining the route, taking pictures. The thought is that they take your picture and then use your race-number to send you the photos later and you can buy them (CAPITALISM). So. Be me. Be running for two-and-a-half hours. But, what’s my exercise motivator? Posing. And I didn’t want to be caught looking angry or tired or…gosh forbid…walking. So, that’s why I ran the whole way. Plus, I jazz-hands-ed for every photographer I saw. Every one. Like a middle-schooler.
Here’s the kicker, though. I didn’t want my support section (i.e. younger brothers plus their friends) to see me not-running/ angry-faced, so I ran the whole way smiling. And, in the end there are NO PICTURES OF ME by the photographers (or at least, not uploaded by the time I wrote this…five days later). Plus, I DIDN’T SEE THE BROTHERS UNTIL A HALF-HOUR AFTER THE RACE. My sole motivator of posing nicely was ruined.
Running for a hobby is so weird.